


A Royal Christmas

by LasciviousPeach



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Explicit Language, Fluff, Jamilton - Freeform, Journalist AU, Journalist!Alexander, M/M, Prince!Thomas, royal au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-24 15:17:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17103029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LasciviousPeach/pseuds/LasciviousPeach
Summary: Alexander’s an overworked, underpaid writer for the New York Times who’s sent to Monticello, a country across the pond, to attend Prince Thomas Jefferson’s press conference about rumors that he’s abdicating the throne. When the Prince cancels, Alexander takes the opportunity to pretend to be Princess Elizabeth’s tutor. As he gets to know the Prince better, Alexander realizes he’s more than the rumors in tabloids and a pretty face with a golden crown.The Jamilton Christmas Prince AU, you didn't know you needed.





	1. The Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired, more or less, by the Netflix movie 'A Christmas Prince'. I don't own the movie, the characters, or 1/4th of the dialogue. 
> 
> I finally, finally finished another multichapter Hamilton fic. I had intended to post this in different chapters, but because I wanted to get this up before Christmas, I decided to split it differently. Huge thanks to my beta, zaosa on Tumblr, who was amazing and put up with my ridiculousness. 
> 
> Let me know what you think! I'd love to hear it.

The cold New York City wind whips around him, frigid in its touch and unwavering in its intensity. Alexander takes a long drag from his cigarette and forces the cold city air into his lungs. He flicks the ash from the end of his cigarette and winces as it flies onto the keyboard of his laptop. 

“You’re a saint,” John says, sitting next to him and pulling at the sleeves of his jacket. 

Alexander just nods and continues making changes to John Adams’ horrific article. No wonder the New York Times is a fucking joke. “This is ridiculous. Washington said he wanted a 500 word article on Ivanka Trump using her personal email for official government business and Adams writes this shit?” He gestures to Adams’ personal opinion of Clinton’s use of her personal email, “And the worse part is that it’s not even 500 words.”

“You do realize that you’re only a junior editor, right? It’s not your job to save Adams’ass by completely rewriting his articles.”

Alexander retypes the last sentence and shrugs. He stops typing for a second to take another drag of his cigarette. “The only way I’m going to work up to writer is if I prove myself.” 

He stubs his cigarette out onto the metal picnic table and shuts his laptop lid. “Man, let’s go back inside. I’m going to freeze my ass off out here.”

John closes his own laptop and tucks it into his shoulder bag. “You’ve got to stop smoking. At least until the weather turns nice.” 

“Nicotine waits for no one, my love.” Alexander shoots him a wink and John shoves him towards the door. They walk through the back door of the large, glass building and Alex waves at the girl sitting at the front desk. 

John hits the elevator button and Alexander stands next to him, a little woozy from his nicotine buzz, and waits for the elevator to reach the bottom floor. It finally reaches the bottom and Alex shoulders past the stiff suits next to him to grab a spot at the far corner of the elevator. 

“Floor?” One of the suits asks. 

“2, please.” John says and Alex tries his best not to roll his eyes. 

The suit presses the button and the elevator lapses into an uncomfortable silence. Finally, the door dings and Alex pushes through the suits to exit. John’s right behind him and they’re rounding the corner to their desks before the elevator doors even shut behind them. 

“Hey Alex!” Eliza Schuyler says from where she’s perched on Angelica’s desk. 

Alexander smiles at her, more genuine than he’s used to, and accepts a hug from her. “There’s my favorite Schuyler.” He says with a grin and watches as Angelica rolls her eyes, “How are your classes?” 

He listens as she rambles on about her classes at Columbia and tries his best to suppress the jealousy he feels. He’s happy for her, in every since of the word, but he craves the opportunities that she has so easily been afforded. 

Alex’s phone rings on his desk and he excuses himself, quickly, to answer the phone call. 

“Hamilton.” He says automatically as soon as he picks up the receiver. 

“Washington needs to see you. Report to his office immediately.” Washington’s assistant, William Palfrey, says with no introduction. 

He rolls his eyes at William’s no nonsense tone. “Already on my way.”

He hangs up the phone and flips Lafayette the finger when he notices his friend staring. 

“Washington?” Lafayette asks, his thick accent making the words almost non-sensible. 

“I’m afraid so. Maybe he’s finally realized how brilliant I am and decided to give me Adams’ job.”

“Or he’s firing you for the blog post you made about Charles Lee.” 

Alexander flips him the finger again and turns on his heels to stride towards Washington’s office. He stops outside the big glass door and takes a moment to fix his hair. Once he feels a little more put together, he strides into Washington’s office without bothering to knock. 

“You wanted to see me, sir?” Alexander says, voice as polite as he can manage. Out of all the higher ups in this office, Washington is the only one that Alex respects. There’s something about him, maybe it’s his big and imposing figure, the deep tenor of his voice, or maybe his military background, that captures Alex’s attention and forces his respect. It could be, also, that Washington is one of the greatest journalists to bless this tired and pathetic career. 

“Yes, my boy, come in.” Washington says and Alex wants to remind him - once again - that he really prefers Alexander. 

Alexander drops into the seat across from Washington’s large desk and runs his fingers through his hair. 

“If this is about Charles Lee-”

“I could care less about your extracurriculars, Alexander.” Washington interrupts, “You’re a talented writer. It’s been brought to my attention that you’ve been rewriting Adams’ articles for him, and I thought it was time to give you a shot to prove yourself. Do you know about the Kingdom of Monticello?”

“The Kingdom of Monticello. Their Queen just filed to enter the United Nations, against her late husband’s wishes, right?”

“Exactly. King Peter died a year ago and the maximum interregnum is met on New Years Day. King Peter’s only son, Prince Thomas, is next in line but the kid’s out doing God knows what and finding himself knee deep in scandal after scandal. Rumor has it, Prince Thomas is going to abdicate the throne.”

Alexander’s eyebrows shoot up at this. “He’d abdicate? A rumor like that is bound to get the interest of the UN, and not the good kind.”

“Exactly.”

“Why doesn’t he want to be king?” 

“That, my son,” Washington says, “is what you’re going to find out. Prince Thomas has a press conference scheduled on Wednesday, I expect you to be there and have a full report on his decision to abdicate or not, am I understood?” 

“Yes, sir. I won’t let you down.”

Washington nods and Alexander leaves, knowing he’s been excused. 

John’s waiting for him at his desk once he makes it back from Washington’s office. He looks up as Alex approaches and his smile is pulled back in polite curiosity. 

“So, are you fired or what?”

“Nope,” Alex says as he drops down into his seat, “I’m being sent to Monticello on assignment.”

John’s eyes go impossibly wide, “You’re reporting on the Royals.”

“Prince Thomas specifically. Notify the presses, amiright?”

“Prince Thomas?”

“Yeah, why?”

John shakes his head. “No reason. I mean, I’m jealous. Have you seen that guy? Total package.”

Alexander laughs and punches John in the arm. “Except for the total flake part.”

“Yeah,” John says with a chuckle, “Except for that part.”

That night, Alexander packs a single suitcase and then goes to work on his mac looking for background information for his article. He’s never liked walking head first into something he doesn’t know, and based on what John said, there should be plenty of information about Prince Thomas out there. 

He starts with the simple google search, Prince Thomas Jefferson of Monticello, and is unsurprised by the amount of results that first pop up. He takes a moment to study the wikipedia picture that is selected. It’s a full length portrait of Prince Thomas, and Alexander’s mouth falls open when he sees it. 

The Prince is dressed like someone straight out of the 19th century. He’s wearing purple velvet knee length breeches that meet white knee high socks. He has a white shirt with ruffles down the front and an honest to God cravat. To top it all of is a matching purple velvet coat with coattails that brush the back of his ankles and, in his hand, a silver tipped cane. 

Alexander looks away from the clothes and focuses on the Prince himself. He is undeniably hot. He has entranting brown eyes under arched brows and a full mouth surrounded by a full beard. It’s not long or too thick, but perfectly shaped to his handsome face. It accentuates his cheekbones and killer jawline. And the real attention stealer- the tight black ringlets that curl around his face like a halo. 

“Fuck me,” Alexander whispers under his breath. 

He exits out of the wikipedia pictures and focuses on the articles. The first one is, unsurprisingly, a tell all dish about the Prince. He skims the article and comes away with the knowledge that this girl - Lady Martha is just one of many women found in less than stellar circumstances with the Prince. 

Alexander scoffs and closes out of safari. He’s really not looking for gossip. He needs the real story, and to get that he’s going to have to get the answer from Prince Thomas himself. 

He gets to the airport early and boards his flight by noon, which Alexander is thankful for. He’s never been very comfortable with flying, so the sooner he can get to Monticello and out of this flying death trap the better. 

It’s an eight hour flight, so Alexander pops a sleeping pill, pulls his eye mask down, and prays he doesn’t fucking die before he gets there.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love it? Hate it? Tell me. 
> 
> Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, etc etc. My day has been shit, and Christmas is looking like its going to be the same, so I'd really love to read your comments. They always brighten my day up and make me feel so good.

Alexander is, at some point, roused from sleep and pulled into the conscious world of the living. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, if you take a look out your windows right now, you’ll see the beautiful empire of the Monticello Monarchy.” The pilot's voice crackles over the loudspeaker, and Alex pulls off his eye mask. The sun reflecting off the freshly fallen snow is blinding. Once his eyes get used to the light, he’s able to fully see Monticello. 

It’s beautiful, breathtaking even, and Alexander isn’t surprised. From the basic research he had down before he left New York, he found out that Monticello prided themselves on the perfection of the image they presented. They were perfect, in all regards. It was a reputation crafted from years of practice, first starting around the time of the American Revolution. 

The landing is uneventful, and Alex gets herded off the plane and to baggage claim. The whole ordeal is slightly less traumatic than the last time he flew somewhere, and the employees are all surprisingly helpful. (He’s going to blame that one on Universal Health Care - even if there is no data backing up his hypothesis.) That is, until, he’s walking away from the baggage area, suitcase tucked in hand, and a man runs right into him. 

He stumbles on his feet and turns around to give this asshole a piece of his mind. The man, conspicuous as hell, is dressed in sunglasses, a beanie, and black clothes. He pushes past Alexander without an apology and Alex, being Alex, can’t let that slide. 

“Hop off you fucking prick!” He calls out angrily and flips the guy, who looks over his shoulder, the middle finger. 

A middle-aged woman next to him gasps and covers her son’s ears and Alex just rolls his eyes. 

It’s just after noon once he makes it to his hotel. It’s a small and quiet Inn just off Randolph Road, and it smells like cinnamon and coffee, and Alexander has never felt more at home. 

The press meeting isn’t until 2:30, so he decides to take a quick shower and finish up one of Adam’s more atrocious articles. He finishes around 1:45 and dresses quickly, a little less sloppy than usual, and heads towards the Royal Palace. 

The fresh snow crunches under his converse, and he curses himself for forgetting to bring decent fucking shoes for the weather. 

There’s a booth just in front of the castle, the only visible entrance through the giant iron fence, and Alexander stops to let them look through his credentials. He’s given a Press Pass and directions on how to get to the area they are supposed to wait for Prince Thomas. 

He takes a seat close to the aisle, pulls out his notebook, and sends John a quick text. 

To: My Johnny Appleseed: Officially landed, checked in, and am now waiting for Prince McDouche to arrive. Wish me luck. 

He sends it, and almost immediately it shows that John read his message and the typing bubble appears in the corner. 

From: My Johnny Appleseed: You’ve got this. Washington wouldn’t have chosen you if he didn’t think you weren’t capable. Besides, we all know you’re the best man for the job. Good luck, even though you don’t need it. 

Alexander reads through the message and smiles at the frank bolstering his friend provides. He sends back a black heart emoji and then locks his phone as a woman steps onto the stage. 

She walks up to the microphone, all polished black hair and sparkling teeth, and when she speaks, she has a British accent. 

“Hello, all. I’m Maria Cosway, Royal Press Secretary. Unfortunately, Prince Thomas is not able to attend today, due to pressing emergency concerns that require his immediate attention.”

The reporters next to him immediately jump up, shouting over one another to yell pointless questions at the Press Secretary. Alexander only rolls his eyes, unsurprised. He had known Prince Thomas was a flake, and the excuse Cosway had given was as textbook as the excuses he heard from Washington. 

He uses the commotion to slip out the back, intent on at least getting a taxi back to his hotel before they are all taken. He takes off his press badge and sticks it in the pocket of his jacket. The snow is soft under his feet, and he sinks into it, much like his own disappointment. 

Washington is counting on him. He can’t just go back with nothing. This is his chance. His chance to make something out of himself, to stop polishing Adam’s shitty words, to launch his mother fucking career. 

A taxi pulls up in front of him, and Alex’s face is reflected in the smudged window. He stares at himself- broke, scrappy, and dying for a little slice of what his life could be. 

He turns on his heels and walks back toward the door. Alex doesn’t know how, but he’s going to get this story. 

The opportunity presents itself like fate herself at opened the door for him. He sees two caterers carrying packages in a back door. He licks his lips and slips in behind them before the door can fully shut. 

The inside of the palace is beautiful, and he pulls his phone from his pocket. Alex walks deeper into the palace and snaps a few quick photographs of the room around him. It’s tall, beautiful depictions of different zodiac symbols. It reminds Alexander of Grand Central Station. 

“Can I help you?” 

Alexander turns on his heels and looks up into the unwavering eyes of a woman. He panics, having absolutely no excuse for why he’s in the palace and licks his lips. 

“Oh. You must be Benjamin Tallmadge, the new tutor from the states?” She says and Alexander can only shake his head at her words. He has no idea who the fuck Benjamin Tallmadge - the new tutor from the states is, but he’s grateful she’s just given him the perfect excuse. 

“I thought you weren’t available until after Christmas?” She says. 

Alexander clears his throat. “I was able to rearrange my schedule to be here earlier.” 

She gives him a once-over, and he’s glad he chose to take off his press badge on the way out of the palace. “Okay then. A call would have been appreciated, but it’s of no conquest now, I suppose. I’m Sybil Ludington, I’m in charge of Princess Elizabeth’s studies.” Luddington says, “Come now, Her Majesty wants to meet you.”

Alexander’s eyes widen at her words, holy shit this was a good deal, and follows her out of the room. They venture up two sets of stairs as Luddington mumbles on about the weather and other meaningless nonsense. Alexander keeps up pretenses of interest, nodding and making appropriate noises at appropriate times. 

They round a corner and Alexander makes out the distinct Southern twang of the Queen before he sees her. “You had one job, Thomas. I took care of everything else, but you couldn’t have just gone to the conference? You couldn’t have smiled and answered a few questions? You couldn’t have beat around the bush for twenty minutes?” Her words are sharp. “How does this look for us now? The rumors of you abdicating will fly rapidly after this stunt. Your father would be disappointed.” 

Luddington stops outside a room, the door half cracked open and knocks twice. Alex hears shuffling, the clearing of a throat, and then the Queen’s voice. “Come in.”

Luddington pushes open the door and steps inside with Alexander on her heels. 

“Your Majesty, Prince Thomas, May I present Benjamin Tallmadge.” 

Alexander is glad he brushed up on Royal Etiquette and gives a simple bow. His eyes focus on Prince Thomas, and he loses his breath. The pictures don’t quite do him justice. He is handsome with a sharply trimmed beard, furrowed eyebrows, and a pair of the most kissable lips Alexander has ever seen. And he is also too distinctly familiar. 

Prince Thomas, too, seems to have reached the same conclusion. His brow furrows even more than before, and he takes a step closer to Alexander. “I know you.” He says, and his lips quirk up at the side, “You’re the man from the airport. The one who called me, I believe, a fucking prick, and told me to ‘hop off’.”

Luddington looks horrified, Prince Thomas looks amused, and the Queen simply raises an eyebrow. 

Alexander takes a step back and holds up his hands. “I am so sorry.” He says, “I, uh, obviously didn’t know it was you. But, to be fair, you were a complete prick.”

Luddington takes a sharp indignant breath and Alexander knows, without looking at her, that she must be fuming. 

Prince Thomas doesn’t seem offended, though, quite the contrary. His eyes shimmer with amusement and glee, and he nods. “I suppose I was. My apologies, but I hope you understand why I was in a rush.”

Alexander doesn’t actually understand, considering Prince Thomas didn’t bother showing up for his own press conference, but he - for once - keeps his mouth shut. “Apologies accepted. It’s no big deal.”

A girl, no older than Alex, rushes into the room and skids to a stop by the door. “I’m sorry to interrupt, your Majesty, but I’m afraid there’s a pressing matter I need to speak with you about.”

The Queen nods and turns to Prince Thomas. “Please introduce Mr. Tallmadge to your sister and make sure he has everything he needs.” 

Prince Thomas nods and then Queen stops in front of Alexander. “It was nice meeting you, Mr. Tallmadge. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask Mrs. Luddington.”

“It was nice meeting you too, Your Majesty,” Alex says and bows again as she flees the room, followed by the young girl. 

Prince Thomas turns back to him. “Come on, then, time for you to meet the real ruler of the Royal Palace.”

Alexander follows him from the room, and if he stares at Prince Thomas’s ass through the fabric of his dress pants, well no one needs to know. 

He follows Prince Thomas down the hallway and into a separate section of the palace. He stops in front of a set of double doors and knocks twice. 

“One second!” Alexander hears and Thomas patiently folds his hands behind his back. A moment later the door unlocks and is pulled open. A young girl, no older than seventeen peeks out. Her expression is blank but lifts up immediately when she sees Prince Thomas. 

She pulls the door open farther and before Alexander can say anything, Princess Elizabeth has thrown her arms around Prince Thomas in a soul-crushing hug. He hears Thomas’ sharp exhale and chuckle as he returns the hug to his little sister. 

“Thank God you’re back.” Princess Elizabeth says, and her eyes narrow on Alexander over her brother’s shoulder. Her brow furrows - much like Prince Thomas’ had before. “Who’s the eye candy?” 

“This is Benjamin Tallmadge, your new tutor.” 

Alexander flushes at Prince Thomas’ considerate look and bows to the Princess. 

“It’s an honor to meet you, Princess Elizabeth.”

She gives him an appraising look and then glances back at her brother. They exchange nonspoken words - like they’re speaking with their eyes, and then she nods her heads. 

“Elizabeth’s fine. Can I call you Ben? Or do you expect me to call you Mr. Tallmadge because then we might have a problem?”

“Ben’s fine.”

“Okay cool.” She says almost absentmindedly, “Well if that’s all, I have stuff to do. We start tomorrow, yes?”

“Sure.”

Elizabeth nods once more and gives him a genuine smile. “Later Ben. Thomas, can we talk?” 

Prince Thomas seems unsurprised by her request and nods. He turns back to Alexander and gives him a half smile. “Benjamin,” He says, accent more prominent than before.   
Alexander can tell he’s being dismissed so he bows. “Prince Thomas, Elizabeth.”

And then Prince Thomas is entering Elizabeth’s room and shutting the door behind him. He had been so caught up on the walk to Elizabeth’s room, he hadn’t been paying attention to where he was and now he has no idea how to get back to, well, he doesn’t even know where his room is. 

Luddington, thankfully, appears out of thin air and greets him with a curt nod. “I’ll escort you to your room.”

He follows her quietly and tries to make a mental note of how to get back to Elizabeth’s room. They arrive outside a single door with a wide arch and gold trimmings, and Luddington opens to door for him. 

“These are your private quarters. If anything is not to your liking please do not hesitate to let me know and I will inform the staff. Shall I send for your luggage?”

He considers it and then realizes how incriminating his luggage could be if they were to accidentally see something inside. Papers with him labeled as Alexander Hamilton, pictures of the Royal Family, his fucking Press gear. 

He shakes his head, “No I’ll retrieve it myself. I’ve been wanting to see a little of the city before I settle in.” 

Luddington nods. “Of course. Your morning lecture with Princess Elizabeth is at nine-thirty sharp. I trust you’ve fully prepared material to cover the standards I sent to your agency?” 

“Can I actually get another list of those standards? You know how American mail is.”

She looks annoyed, and like she is barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes, and instead gives a sharp nod. “Of course Mr. Tallmadge. I’ll have them sent up with your nightly tea, as per request.”

He’s not a fan of tea, but he’s worried asking for anything else will have Luddington snapping at him for being such a burden. 

“Thank you, ma’am.”

She seems to soften a little at his manners and gives him a less cold smile. “I’ll see you in the morning, Mr. Tallmadge.”

He shuts the door softly and locks it before collapsing face first on the plush bed. 

Shit, he has to call Washington. 

It’s a quarter after six here, which means it’s just after nine in New York, so he doubts Washington has left the office yet. 

Alexander pulls open his contacts and presses the green Call button by Washington’s name. He holds the phone up to his ear and waits a few moments before it starts ringing. It rings three times and then Washington’s gruff voice answers. “Washington.”

“Washington, It’s Alexander.”

“I’m aware, my boy, I have caller ID.”

Right. “So I have an update.”

“Is that so? I was under the impression that Prince Thomas had canceled the press conference.”

“He did, sir. I, uh, might have snuck inside the castle and pretended to be Princess Elizabeth’s tutor.”

Washington is silent for a moment. “I’m sorry you did what?”

“I snuck in and they assumed I was this kid named Benjamin Tallmadge and I never corrected them. I’ve already spoken to the Queen, Prince Thomas, and Princess Elizabeth.”

“Nicely done Alexander. I’m proud, son. Stay undercover for as long as you can manage and get the story. Lots of pictures and physical documents. This piece needs to be as authentic as possible.” 

“Of course, sir. I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t.” Washington’s voice rings, “Good luck Alexander. Keep me updated.”

He hangs up and falls back into the plush pillows.

Holy fuck.

/

The next morning, he gets dressed while John talks to him on the phone. He is feeling more and more stressed about his tutor lessons, and John’s familiar voice - calming voice - helps him relax. 

“The standards she gave me are so vague! What if they want me to teach her science? What if they want me to teach her biology?” Alexander says and his voice is borderline desperate, “You know I almost failed biology!”

“Alex, you have to calm down or they’ll realize that you’re not this Tallmadge guy. Cool, calm, and collected. You seriously need to chill the fuck out. You said maths and economics were on the standards, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, then why don’t you start there?” 

He finishes tying his hair back and takes a deep breath. He could talk about economics in his sleep. He was born to talk about banks. Centralized banking is the cornerstone of democracy - or, well constitutional monarchy he supposes, in this case. 

“I can do that.” He says and his voice sounds much more put together than it had five minutes ago when he first called John freaking out. 

“You’ll be fine, Alex. You just have to get through till Christmas, then you’ll know for sure if Prince Thomas is abducating or not. Just keep it together until then, okay?”

“You’re right. Christmas will be here before I know it. Thanks, John.”

He can hear his friends smile through the phone. “Of course. Love you and we’ll talk later.”

“Okay. Bye John.”

He hangs up and pulls a sweater over his shirt before exiting the room. He manages to snap a few pictures of the hallway on his way upstairs. He sees a flash of someone and quickly tucks his phone into his pocket. 

Alexander arrives outside Elizabeth’s room - or study - he’s not sure, and knocks twice. 

“One second!” Elizabeth calls from inside. The door open and Alexander is surprised to see Prince Thomas exit. He stops and gives Alexander a small smile, and Alexander bows. 

“Prince Thomas.” He says, and his voice is thankfully even. 

Thomas nods. “Benjamin. Prince Elizabeth is ready for her lesson. Go ahead in.” 

Prince Thomas is striding down the hallway before he can say anything else to stop him from going. Alexander watches the tense muscles in his shoulders, buried under the thick material of his sweater, and he wonders just what was stressing him out so much. 

He shakes his head, knows that conjecture isn’t enough for a warrant, and knocks twice on Elizabeth’s door before stepping inside. He pulls it shut behind him and turns to face where she is sitting behind her desk. Alexander glances around the room quickly and decides that this must be her study because he sees no bed or dresser or anything of the sort. 

“Princess Elizabeth,” He bows.

She offers him a raised eyebrow and a small smile. “Hello, Ben. Ready for my first lesson?” 

“Absolutely. I played with the schedule a little so we can start with my favorite subject.”

Elizabeth looks interested. “And that is?”

“Economics!”

He can practically feel her deflate and works quickly to rectify her enthusiasm, “Come on, give it a chance. I’m told I make it very interesting.”

“Fine, but if I get bored then I get to decide what we do next.”

Alexander swallows, prays she doesn’t say anything involving biology and agrees. 

Twenty minutes later, he’s knee deep in explaining how national banking first came about. “So, then the Treasury Secretary had to fight tooth and nail to get it passed through Congress because, in the United States, Congress has to be the one who passes any legislation. So he decided-”

“I’m bored.” Elizabeth interrupts him and he drops his hands to his sides.   
“How? How is centralized banking not the most interesting thing you’ve ever heard about?”

She looks unimpressed. “Because I’m not a nerd.” Elizabeth grins, “So I get to decide what we do now.”

“And you pick?”

She leans forward to rest her head in her hands. “I want to get to know you. So I say we play twenty questions.”

Fuck. 

“Okay, we can do that, but we can both veto any questions we don’t feel comfortable answering.”

She smiles, teeth sparkling and bright, “Deal! I’ll go first. Do you have a girlfriend?”

Alexander prays he’s not being hit on. “No girlfriend. Do you guys really have a dungeon?”

Her face scrunches up in distaste. “Not that I’m aware of. Do you have a boyfriend?”

He senses that being vulnerable will probably get her to trust him more, and that way he’ll be able to get more information. He shakes his head. “I did. His name was Tench but we amicably broke up a couple of months ago. What’s your favorite thing to do in the palace?”

“I like baking.” She shrugs, “What do you think of Thomas?”

“Prince Thomas? Your brother?”

She nods. “Yes.”

“I think he’s very interesting. He seems shy, but that’s the complete opposite of what everyone says. I don’t really know what I think. I don’t know him well enough.” He says honestly, “Why is he thinking of abdicating the crown?”

Elizabeth looks off at some point past Alexander’s shoulder. “Thomas is, uh, complicated. He’s dealing with a lot of personal things, things that I can’t tell, and he’s trying to figure himself out before he becomes considers becoming king.” She says and then looks back to Alex, “Alright Ben, we better get back to it. Tell me about the banks.”  
Sometime later, he finishes up his lecture on American banking and excuses himself from her study. He’s starving, hasn’t eaten since whatever fresh hell Luddington sent up last night, and he’s desperate to find the kitchen. 

Alexander rounds the corner and hears the soft playing of Blue Christmas on the piano. He’s drawn to the sound, like this is some romantic comedy, and peaks his head in the door. He sees Prince Thomas sitting at the piano, his long fingers drifting over the keys. Using his phone, he records a short video of Prince Thomas playing. He has just tucked his phone back in his pocket when Thomas looks up, and his fingers stop. 

“Mr. Tallmadge.” 

Alexander bows, “Ben is fine, your Majesty.” 

Prince Thomas’ smile dips in the corner. “It’s quite unnecessary that you address me like that.”

Alexander takes another step into the room. “My apologies, Prince Thomas. For the name and for interrupting.”

He scoots back from the piano and walks over to the fireplace where a large portrait of his father sits. “Don’t trouble yourself over it, Ben.”

“The Holidays are the worst.”

Thomas looks over his shoulder at Alexander in confusion. 

“I meant,” He clears his throat, “I meant that after you lose someone. The Holidays always seem the be the hardest.” Alex gestures to the painting. 

“Ah, yes.” Thomas says, “They indeed are.” He stares up at the painting so intently that Alexander is worried speaking will break him out of his spell, but he does so anyway. 

“I know it might not mean much, but it gets easier. I lost both my parents when I was a kid and it was hard, it still is, but I can make it through Christmas without crying once, so I’ll say its progress.”

He doesn’t expect it, but Thomas chuckles at that. “That’s good to know, Ben. I only wish he was here to guide me. I have a big decision to make and if I make the wrong choice and the truth comes out, I’ll be made a mockery.”  
He wants to pry, but manages to keep his mouth shut. “I’m sure you’ll do the right thing, Prince Thomas.”

It seems that, with those words, all of the Prince’s shields fly back up. His face closes off and he folds his hands formally behind his back. “I suppose we’ll see.” He says, “I must be going, but it was nice seeing you again Ben.”

He’s turning and striding from the room, leaving Alexander alone and with a pang in his chest. 

He manages to find Luddington to request some food and takes it back up to his room to start working on his article. Alexander opens his MacBook Air and starts typing out an intro. He types out the basic information he knows about Thomas and makes a few notes about the conversation they had in the piano room today. Something simmers in his gut, low and needy, as he replays their conversation in his head. 

The way Prince Thomas’ lips had quirked up. The way his eyes had shone with the dim lighting from the Christmas lights in the piano room. 

A knock on his door draws Alexander away from the dangers of his own thoughts. 

He shuts his laptop lid and gets up from the bed. “Come in,” says Alexander. 

The door open and Princess Elizabeth walks inside. Her long black hair is braided into a bun high on her head, and she’s in a knee-length black pleated dress. 

“You look nice. Although I suppose that’s not too surprising given that you’re royalty.” 

“I am dressed up extra specially, however, thank you for noticing.” She says with a grin, “I was wondering if you’d like to come to a cocktail party tonight? It’s going to be boring and dull, but I can introduce you to the Prime Minister and there will be good food.”

Alexander smiles. “Consider me there, then.”

Elizabeth picks him out the least offending outfit from his luggage, and Alexander dresses quickly in his private bathroom before following her down the stairs. They walk through several sets of doors and down a long corridor before they enter a large room. It reminds Alexander of the Piano room. The walls are tastefully decorated with Christmas decorations, and there is a lone piano in the far corner. 

He subtly wipes his palms on his pants and takes a seat on the small couch with Princess Elizabeth. The Princess grabs two flutes of what he assumes is champagne and hands it to him. Alex takes a long sip and his eyes find Prince Thomas, long fingers playing over the piano in the corner. 

“There’s James, would you like me to introduce you?” She whispers. 

Alexander looks at her. “You’re on a first name basis with the Prime Minister?” 

She gives him a knowing grin and grabs his hand. She rises from the couch and tugs Alexander along behind her. 

“Mr. Prime Minister, I would like to present Benjamin Tallmadge.”

Alexander is grateful he can shake his hand, mostly because he’s kind of tired of bowing. The Prime Minister gives him a quick appraise, eyes searching before his lips smooth into a genuine smile. “James Madison, it’s nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, sir.”

He engages Madison in an interesting talk about Monticello economics and they’re knee deep in conversation when Alexander feels someone come up behind him. Madison’s smile widens as his eyes find a spot above Alex’s shoulder. He knows before he even turns around that Prince Thomas is behind him. 

“Thomas, it’s good to see you again, my friend.”

Alex watches as the Prince embraces the Prime Minister in a quick hug. “James, I was hoping you would be in attendance tonight.” His eyes, bright and lively, find Alex’s. 

“Prince Thomas.” He gives a small bow and Thomas’ smile is glistening. 

“Benjamin, I see you’ve been introduced to my good friend Mr. Madison.”

“Yes, he has been delightful company,” Alexander says, as a figure approaches behind Prince Thomas. 

“Ah Benjamin, this is Duke Charles Lewis, my cousin.” Prince Thomas says with a flourish of his hand. 

Duke Charles Lewis is stunning. He has long braided hair pulled back into a low ponytail, with caramel eyes under bushy arched brows. 

“Charmed.” Charles Lewis says, and his smile is so sparkling white that Alexander thinks the sunlight actually shines off them. He is handsome, gorgeous even, and yet he doesn’t compare next to Prince Thomas. 

“Pleased to make your acquaintance.” He offers a small bow, much more informal than the bow he gave Thomas, and turns his attention back to the Prince and Prime Minister. He sees Prince Thomas puff his chest out, coming to his full height, and Alexander decides he won’t mention it, but the small smile on his face is definitely not from the champagne. 

A couple of days later, Alexander finds himself tucked on a small couch beside Princess Elizabeth and a small yappy dog named Cleveland. 

Prince Thomas stands next to the Queen by the palace’s large Christmas tree. 

“Oh Thomas, this was made by your father before he passed away. He said it was going to be your Christmas present.” Queen Jane says. Her voice is weak and her eyes glassy as she hands Thomas a large wooden heart. 

“To my father. The best king Monticello has ever had. May we live each day in hopes of honoring him and his commitment to the crown.”

He places the ornament on the tree and it twirls effortlessly from its string. 

Alexander busies himself talking to Elizabeth, so his starring isn’t too blatantly obvious. She shoots him a knowing look at his sudden interest in her sparkling tiara but is polite enough not to mention it. 

She’s talking about a boy from school she’s interested in but too shy to approach, and Alexander is listening but he can’t keep his eyes from flickering to the prince. He watches as a woman enters the room. She’s dressed impeccably in a knee-length red dress and black high heels, and Alexander watches as she stands on the tips of her toes to wrap her long arms around Prince Thomas’s neck. She giggles and he presses a kiss to the side of her cheek. 

“Who’s that?” Alexander asks Elizabeth, and she glances over at her brother. Her lips curve into a small smile and she stands up, tugging Alexander with her. 

“Princess Elizabeth.” The woman says as they approach. Elizabeth hugs her happily and smiles wider than before. “Martha, it’s good to see you. I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I asked her to come for Christmas as a surprise.” Prince Thomas says and his eyes find Alexander over the curve of Elizabeth’s shoulder. 

“Dutchess Martha Wayles, this is Benjamin Tallmadge.” Prince Thomas introduces them, and the Dutchess turns to him. She was beautiful from a distance, but she is somehow even more beautiful up close. Alexander feels something bubble uncomfortably in his chest as the Dutchess leans closer into Prince Thomas’ side. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Tallmadge.” 

“The pleasure is returned, Your Royal Highness,” Alexander says with a bow. He’s really getting tired of all the bowing and honorifics. 

The Dutchess giggles again at that, still glued to Thomas’ side. “Please. Martha is fine. Titles are a bore.”

He turns his attention to Prince Thomas, who is looking at him expectantly. He remembers that he never actually addressed the Prince and makes quick work to rectify his mistake. 

“Prince Thomas.” He says with a nod and Martha’s eyebrows shoot up. 

“Prince Thomas?” She says, looking at Thomas, “Why are you making the poor man call you by your title. You never make anyone call you that. Well except the press.”

“At least Benjamin isn’t calling him Your Majesty anymore. I’d consider this an improvement.” Elizabeth chimes in with a knowing grin. 

“Benjamin is allowed to call me whatever he wishes. Although, in truth, I do prefer just Thomas.”

Alexander’s smile widens. “Okay, then Just Thomas.”

It’s quiet for a second and the three Royals have looks of varying degrees of confusion on their faces until Martha’s splits into a grin and she laughs. “You Americans and your humor. How charming. I like this one, Thomas dear.”

“In all honesty, I forgot you were from the State’s for a moment.” Thomas confesses, “It must be hard spending Christmas away from your family and friends.”

He might not have blood relatives, but he has family. “It is, but Monticello is such a beautiful place to spend the winter, and I can’t really complain.”

“Are there any traditions you have for this time of year? Anything we can do to make this Christmas more familiar for you?”

“Actually yes,” Alexander replies. “We always make Christmas cookies as a tribute to my parents. It’s one of the only traditions I actually stick with, and it would mean a lot if I could do that here.”

Thomas’ smile drops a fraction of an inch, and he wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t paying so close attention to the other man’s lips. “Of course, Benjamin, we can do that.”

He gets so lost in the brown of Thomas’ eyes that nothing else, not even the beautiful girl hanging off his arm, can distract Alexander from the flurries in his chest. 

/ 

The next morning he’s sitting in Elizabeth’s study, working on his article about Thomas, when he hears the door behind him shut. 

He slams his laptop lid closed, doesn’t bothering saving it, and turns to face Princess Elizabeth. 

“Hey.” He says, tries to keep his voice from sounding as guilty as he feels. 

“What are you doing?” Elizabeth asks and drops down into the chair across from here. 

“Nothing.”

“Really Alex?”

“Really-” He freezes and his gaze snaps to Elizabeth’s. She’s wearing a smirk and her arms are crossed over her chest. 

He’s fucked.

“It wasn’t that hard to figure out who you were. I googled Benjamin Tallmadge from Culper Tutoring Center, and the picture that came up wasn’t you. Benny boy is a blonde haired blue eyed hot piece, and he is definitely not a brown-eyed man with shoulder-length black hair.” 

“So you knew I wasn’t Tallmadge, but how’d you figure out who I actually was.”

“Your laptop login screen says Alexander Hamilton, and then I just googled your name and found out that not only are you not a tutor, you’re actually a journalist!”

Alexander swallows. “Okay, I’ll pack my things and leave-”

“Alex, relax. I’m not kicking you out and I’m not telling anyone either.” Elizabeth says, “But you have to promise me something.”

“Anything.” He says. 

She licks her lips and the intimidation from her stance fades. “You have to write the real story, not the bullshit lies the press fabricates. And, Thomas has secrets, you have to promise that if he tells you, you won’t publish them without his direct consent.”

“Secrets?” 

She nods. 

Alexander narrows his eyes, “About why he’s thinking about abdicating.”

Her eyes flick to the floor and she nods again. 

“Okay,” Alexander says, “I promise.”

Elizabeth glances back to him and her lips spread into a pleased smile. “Okay, now let’s skip today’s lesson. Thomas is in the kitchen and we’re going to make cookies.”

“Would the Queen approve?”

“It was Thomas’ idea, so if the Queen has a problem, she can take it up with him.”

The same feeling from before curls in his chest again and the thought of Thomas being thoughtful enough to schedule time to make cookies with them because it would make Alex feel more at home. He’s both touched and unsurprised by the gesture. Thomas is nothing like the press made him out to be. He’s not the one-dimensional playboy the press had portrayed him as. 

“Okay then. Let’s go make some cookies.”

He follows Elizabeth to the kitchen, where Thomas already is. He’s dressed down in dress pants and a tight-fitting purple sweater. 

“Here I thought you both were going to skip out on me,” Thomas says when they enter and Alexander does not drag his eyes down Thomas’ impressive frame. 

“Just took Ben here forever to get ready.”

“Well then, shall we start?”

Alexander looks around the kitchen, spinning on his heels to take it all in, and tries not to let his surprise show. “Yes, we shall. Elizabeth grab the butter and sugar.”

He ends up squashed next to Thomas in front of the kitchen island, rolling the dough out and then pressing silly cookie cutters into the dough to make fun shapes. 

Alexander looks up from his newest ornament cookie to find Thomas looking at him. He raises an eyebrow, flushing, and trying not to smile too wide. “Why are you staring at me?”

Thomas shakes his head, a similar shy smile on his face. “Sorry, you just have a little flour- uh right here.”

Thomas’ thumb brushes gentle just above his lip as the rest of his fingers curl underneath Alexander’s jaw. He freezes at the soft touch and stares unblinkingly into the Prince’s eyes. 

Thomas’ tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Benjamin, I-”

“Are Y'all done with those cookies yet? We’re ready for the next batch.” Elizabeth calls from the oven and Thomas immediately pulls his hand away. He shakes his head and calls back an acknowledgment. 

Alexander watches, silent, as Thomas collects the cookies and carries them to Elizabeth. 

He stares after, his pride severely wounded, and reminds himself that Thomas is straight. He’s more than likely involved with the Duchess and the last thing Alexander needs to do is go and get involved with a straight boy again. He’s been there once and he’s not looking to have a repeat of that whole thing. 

He sighs and turns back to the dough in front of him. If only his mother was here to talk him through this mess. Alex pulls out a handful of dough and picks up the rolling pin. 

By noon that next day, Alexander realizes that he might be a little in over his head. At this point, all he has is a few conversations, a misstep in the kitchen, and Elizabeth’s words echoing in his head. All conjecture, and none of it fact on whether or not Thomas is going to abdicate the throne and none on why he would ever consider it in the first place. 

Elizabeth had said he had secrets, secrets she didn’t want outed unless he had approved. But what kind of secrets could a Prince have? He’s spent his entire life under the spotlight, surely if he had some big secret the press would have heard about it by now. 

Unless… 

He thinks about the way Thomas’ eyes linger. The way his thumb had caressed Alexander’s skin. 

The press wouldn’t have heard of a secret that only existed within the depths of Thomas’ own mind. A secret he wouldn’t want anyone but his sister finding out. A secret his sister would never want Alexander to out unless Thomas had come out first. 

It’s a possibility, and Alex can admit that he almost hopes his guess is right. 

But still, this is all conjecture. He’s a journalist and he knows none of this can be believed unless he has more evidence. Unless he talks to Thomas. 

He shuts the lid of his computer and strides from his quarters. The only way he’s going to have a conversation with the Prince is if he tracks that motherfucker down. Besides, it’s not like he’s actually doing anything prince-worthy at the moment. From what Alex got from Elizabeth, Thomas has been shedding away from any duties he deduces as too “King-like”. 

Alex strides down the stairs and starts toward the piano room. From what he’s seen of Thomas, the Prince seems drawn to that room. Whether it’s because of the piano or the watchful eyes of his father, Alexander doesn’t know. 

He rounds the corner nearest the piano room and hears the soft playing of keys. A smile crosses his face and Alex doesn’t have the sensibility to scold himself. He knows he’s getting too close to this case, but he can’t help it. He’s always been a sucker for romance, and Prince Thomas is about as perfect as a man can get. No one can blame Alexander, he’s weak for that smile. 

Alex almost walks in but catches sight of another person, and ducks behind the open door at the last second. He doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but he won’t get anything accomplished unless he has Thomas alone. 

He holds his breath, leaning as close to the wall behind him as he can, and listens to the mumble whispers from within the room. It only takes him a second to place the second voice, and he resists the urge to roll his eyes at Dutchess Martha Wayles laughter. 

He hears her voice, soft as bells, as she speaks. “Sounds like a good time then. If you’d just grow a pair-”

“You know why I can’t Martha. You know what’s expected of me.” Thomas says and his words are followed by a long and hollow sigh. “If there is one thing my father taught me, it’s that actions have consequences and I don’t know if the crown is ready for them.”

“Do you really mean the crown? Or do you mean yourself?” 

He hears a small chuckle from Thomas. “You know me too well, Martha. I’ve never been able to fool you.”

“Of course you haven’t.” She says, “We are soulmates after all. I know your mind better than I know my own.”

Her words are like a knife to Alexander’s chest. Soulmates. She called them soulmates. 

“I know, and you know I love you more than anything,” Thomas says. 

“I know you do,” Martha replies simply, “And I you.”

Not only is Alexander disappointed by their words and exchange of affection, but it more than debunks his theory from earlier. He supposes that was mostly wishful thinking on his own part, but now that he’s thought it - hopped it - the disappointment in his chest is harder to swallow. He fools stupid for looking into Thomas’ actions and prays Thomas didn’t think twice about the way he practically purred at the touch yesterday. 

He hears shuffling and decides to make his escape before they catch him and have him executed or whatever. Alex ducks from behind the plant and rounds the corner before he can hear anything else that’ll wound his pride or hurt his heart. 

Alexander finds Elizabeth in the dining room, eating mac and cheese out of the pan and skimming through a magazine. She looks up when he enters and seems more than happy to not acknowledge his foul mood. 

“What are you doing in the next couple of hours?” She says as he drops down into the seat across from her. 

He quirks an eyebrow. “Nothing. Unless you want to work on your studies.”

“Please,” She says with a flip of the page, “You’re not even a real tutor. We’re going to a dedication at one of my father’s orphanages. You should come.”

“I don’t know.”

She turns another page. “Thomas is coming.”

For a second he thinks she knows about his crush but quickly decides that she probably just wants to help him get ideas for his article. 

“Fine, you’ve convinced me.”

She doesn’t even bother to look up from the magazine, but Alex can see the wide grin on her face. 

That afternoon, Alexander follows Elizabeth to the front of the palace where they’re preparing to leave for the toy shop. There are two town cars. One for the Queen and Thomas, and one for Elizabeth and Alex. Except that, once they get outside, Elizabeth makes a beeline for her mother. They talk in hushed tones for a second and then Elizabeth nods. 

She walks back to Alex and frowns. “I have to discuss an important matter of state with her majesty the Queen, is it alright if you ride with Thomas?”

Alexander blinks. “I don’t want to impose.”  
She scoffs. “Nonsense.” and turns to the man that had just exited the palace. “Thomas, do you care if Al- Ben rides with you.” She says and almost slips on his name. 

Thomas looks up from his phone, face betraying nothing, and shrugs. “That’s fine with me.”

“Perfect.” Elizabeth says, “We’ll see you there.”

Alexander barely refrains from facepalming and instead follows Thomas to the car. The Prince holds the door open for Alex and then climbs in behind him, shutting the door before the brisk air can seep into the car. 

It’s awkward silence for a moment before Alex clears his throat. “Sorry about hijacking your car.”

“If anyone should be apologizing, it’s me. I don’t know what Elizabeth thinks she’s doing, but I apologize that you couldn’t ride with her. I’m sure the ride would have been much more comfortable for you.”

His eyebrows furrow at the Prince’s words. “What do you mean by that?” 

Thomas looks away from Alexander, and his grip on the door handle tightens, “I’m under the impression that you are uncomfortable around me, so I apologize if this ride is inconvenient.”

“Uncomfortable- what? I am not uncomfortable around you. A little intimidated, I guess, because you’re a freaking prince, but not uncomfortable. I’m sorry for whatever I did to give you that impression.”

That finally gets Thomas to look at him. “Please do not apologize, Ben. It’s not what you did, but what you didn’t do. You just seem much more at ease with Elizabeth.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Elizabeth doesn’t really act like royalty.”

Thomas raises an eyebrow, “And I do?”

“I don’t know you well enough to determine that.” He sees Thomas deflate at his words and quickly adds on, “But I’d be happy to change that.”

Thomas gives him a small smile at that and nods. “Okay then.”

At the dedication, Alexander stands next to Elizabeth in the crowd - freezing his ass off - while the Queen makes a few comments about the orphanage and her late husband. 

“Peter was fond of this orphanage, and the children housed here. He loved them more than words can describe, and this orphanage will be of the top priority of the crown for years to come.” Her words get a polite clap, “Now please welcome my son, Prince Thomas Jefferson of Monticello.” 

And nothing. Prince Thomas does not come out from behind the curtain. There’s an awkward silence as everyone glances around, but no one seems surprised he shucked his duties. 

Alexander hears a roar of laughter and uses it as a means of escape. He follows the sound down past the orphanage walls, to a courtyard covered in freshly fallen snow. 

He sees Thomas standing next to a snowman, surrounded by several children - all bundled up for the season. 

“Soldiers, in your positions,” Thomas says, voice echoing with importance. He grabs a large decorative candy cane and holds it like a sword as he speaks, “A now, on a charge of high espionage, I hereby sentence this snowman to death by firing squad.” 

He raises his candy cane in the air and shoots a smirk Alexander’s direction. “Three, two, one, fire!”

The kids begin to pelt Thomas with snowballs, instead of the snowman, and his laughter echoes - once more - through the courtyard. He ducks behind a large shrub and motions Alexander over. He goes, because there’s no way he can say no to that smile, and settles down on the snow beneath them. 

“I need someone on my team.” He says with a laugh, and Alexander reaches down to roll a few snowballs with his gloves. Alexander looks back up at Thomas with a raised eyebrow, “Let’s kick some ass.”

They run around the courtyard exchanging snowballs with the children for what feels like hours, and by the time Luddington comes to fetch them, Alexander is frozen and his back his arching, and he’s never had so much fun in his life. 

His chest aches with the force of his laughter, and as he settles back in the car next to Thomas, he realizes - once again - how in over his head he is.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for your comments and kudos, I'm so glad you're enjoying it. 
> 
> Happy Holidays. xx

“Alex this is so boring.” Elizabeth groans as she sprawls - like a Disney princess - across the chaise. “Let’s do something fun.”

He looks up from where he is attempting to grade her chemistry quiz. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. Let’s go sledding or something.”

He casts his gaze outside the window closest to him and looks at the snow that’s littering from the sky. It does look nice outside, and his vision is going cross from spending so much time looking at balanced equations. Besides, it’s not like he is actually being paid to tutor her. His check will go straight to the ad agency once ‘Ben’s’ gig is up. So, it’s not like he actually as a debt to pay to the Royal family.

He drops his pen down onto the wooden table and stands. “Okay, let’s go then.”

She looks at him, eyebrows raised in obvious surprise. “Seriously?”

“Might as well, right? It’s not like I’m actually teaching you anything. We should have some fun before I get my ass kicked out of here.”

They sneak outside, lest the Queen be notified of their activities, and Elizabeth retrieves two sleds from the outdoor garden/rec area. Alexander situates himself on one, at the top of a very large hill, and Elizabeth lines up beside her.

“On the count of three?” Alex says and Elizabeth, smile wide, nodes.

“One,”

“Two,”

“Go!” Elizabeth says and pushes off before Alexander can even comprehend that they didn’t say three. He scoffs, that cheater, and pushes off behind her. The snow slides up and covers his stomach and Alexander hears Elizabeth’s squeal of laughter.

Alexander reaches the bottom of the hill and Elizabeth sends a satisfied smirk his way. He’s about to make a remark when, out of nowhere, a snowball hits him in the back of the head. He freezes, turning around and seeing a sheepish Thomas behind him.  
“You ass!” He shouts, bending down to pick up his own snowball and throwing it at the prince. They dissolve into laughter and snowballs flying through the air, and Alexander laughs until his sides hurt and he collapses on the ground.

Thomas sits next to him, face pulled into a small smile, and Elizabeth is climbing the hill to sled again.

“What are you doing tonight?” Thomas says suddenly.

Alex leans up to look at him, ignoring how close they are, and shrugs. “Nothing, why?”

Thomas actually looks hesitant as he rolls his bottom lip between his teeth. “Would you care to join me on a horse ride tonight?”

He considers how badly he really wants to freeze his ass off, and decides spending time with Thomas is worth it.

“That sounds fun, I’d love to.”

Thomas looks up at the sky and doesn’t bother trying to hide the smile on his face. “Okay then.”

That evening, he frets for a solid hour before John talks him off the metaphorical ledge. He greets Thomas with a grin, and gracefully (he swears he was the most graceful) climbs onto the horse with Thomas’ gentle hand on his waist.

Thomas climbs onto his own horse and leads. Alexander kind of tosses the reign - as they do in the movies - and Nelson, his horse, takes off after Thomas. The ride is quiet and simple, and Alexander allows himself to get lost in the beautiful view and the silent squish of Nelson’s hoofs in the snow.

They come to a stop at the top of a cliff overlooking the sunset, and Alex has a fleeting moment of worry when he thinks Nelson won’t stop. He does though, right next to Thomas’ horse. Thomas dismounts and assists Alexander, and they walk - too close - to the edge of the cliff.

“It’s beautiful here,” Alexander says, taking in the way the sun glistens off freshly fallen snows. They cover the trees in an almost delicate manner.

“I always come here to clear my mind. When the pressure becomes too much.”

Alexander sees an opening and takes it.

“Can I ask you something? It’s personal, and you can decline, of course.”

Thomas glances at him, eyebrow raised, and the corner of his lip is lifted in the beginnings of a smile. “What would you like to know?”

“Why don’t you want to be King?”

Thomas sighs - loud - and Alexander turns to face him fully. “To be King, I’d have to marry a woman.”

He has an inkling, but he just has to push.

“You’re a catch, Thomas. You’re handsome and sweet, and smart. Surely finding a wife is the least of your problems.”

Thomas smiles shyly at that and shrugs. “To be honest with you, It would be a sham. It’d be fake. Just like my relationship with Martha.”

“Thomas,” Alexander says, “Are you gay?”

“Yeah Ben,” He says with a wider smile, “I am.”

“Oh,” He says with a nod and he really shouldn’t be as excited as he is. Thomas must take this as less than thinly veiled excitement because his face grows dark.

“Oh God, please tell me you’re not homophobic?”

“No!” Alexander hurries, “No, I’m bi.”

“Oh,” Thomas says, and Alex knows he isn’t imagining it when he sees the Prince’s eyes drop to his lips. He feels compelled, drawn in, and takes a step closer to Thomas.

“Does anyone else know that you’re, uh, not straight?”

Thomas’s eyes don’t stray from his lips when he speaks. “Elizabeth does, and I think my dad did. He would always say, ‘Be true to your heart, and everything else will follow.”

Alexander steps even closer and brings his face close enough that he can feel Thomas’s breath on his face. He’s so close, and Thomas is just leaning in - and Alex knows he’s going to be kissed when Thomas’ phone rings and Alex pulls back sharply.

Thomas takes the phone call, mutters something, sharp, into the receiver and turns back to Alex.

“Sorry, I’ve got some important business that needs to be taken care of. We should head back.”

“Okay,” He says, and Thomas helps him back onto the horse. Thomas turns to climb onto his own, and before he can start heading back, Alexander stops him.

“Thomas?” He says, and the Prince turns to look at him. “Your secrets safe with me.”

Thomas smiles at him, beautiful and radiant, and Alexander sighs.

  
/

The next morning, Alexander is laying in his bed working on the Thomas article, when there’s a quick knock on his door. It happens so quickly that he thinks he imagined it, but then there are another two knocks and he shuts his laptop.

He pads to the door and pulls it open, surprised to see Prince Thomas on the other side.

“Hey you,” He says with a smile.

Thomas’ reciprocates it easily. “Hey, Ben.” He says and leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed. It makes him look less intimidating, but there’s a wave of uncomfortableness surrounding his posture. “I was wondering if you wanted to go for a walk with me? There is something I need to talk to you about.”

He thinks, for a second, that Thomas knows. But then he realizes that if Thomas knew, Alex would probably have already been removed from the premise.

“Yeah of course,” Alex says, “Let me just grab my coat?”

“Okay, I’ll be right outside.”

He shuts the door after Thomas leaves and takes a few calming breaths. What could a fucking prince want to talk about with him? Maybe he wants to talk about last night, or Elizabeth’s work or something?

He grabs his coat from the closet and wraps it around his body, zipping it to the top of his chest. Alexander walks out and locks his door behind him. Thomas stands off to the side, staring at a painting on the wall.

“Are you ready?”

He looks up at Alexander, smiling, and the world fucking spins. “Yes.”

He follows Thomas down the hall and out one of the back doors.

The sun is high in the sky and it shines, almost blindingly, off the fresh snow. It’s the picture of beautiful tranquility, and Alex can’t bring himself to interrupt it.

“I feel so foolish,” Thomas says once they’re safely out of view of the palace.

Alex raises an eyebrow at that. “Why?”

Thomas licks his bottom lip quickly and looks away from Alexander.

“It has been brought to my attention recently, that my feelings for you transcend what would be referred to as platonic.”

It takes him a second, and then his eyes grow wide. “Your feelings for me?”

Thomas finally looks back at him. “I know its sudden. I know we’ve only known each other for a few weeks, and I totally don’t expect anything from you, but I just had to tell you.”

“Thomas-” He thinks carefully about what he wants to say. “I feel the same way about you, I do, honestly. You’re breathtaking and smart, and we fit together so good.” Alexander thinks about why this is a bad idea and decides that it's best to come clean. “But I-”

He’s just about to spill it all when Thomas bends down and presses their lips together. It’s stupid, and he knows it, but it feels like fucking coming home. Alexander gasps into the kiss, hands coming up to cling to the Prince’s bicep. Thomas licks into his mouth, but it's somehow more sweet than any other kiss Alex has experienced. It’s still soft, despite the tongue in his mouth, and there is something gentle about the way Thomas’ hand curls around his jaw to better angle his jaw.

Thomas pulls away a second later, cheeks flushed from either the wind or the kiss, and Alex thinks he is beautiful.

“There’s a coronation ball tonight. I want you to come.”

Alexander can do nothing but nod.

Elizabeth, upon hearing of his invitation to the ball, squeals and claps her hands together.

“Finally! He’s been pining over you since you first met, and I told him, countless times, to just ask you out, but he was so worried you were straight, or like homophobic or something.”

“So it’s a date?” Alexander asks.

She sends him a patent bitch face. “Yes, obviously.” Her eyes narrow. “We’ve got to get you a makeover.”

Elizabeth sends Luddington out to get the clothing experts, and mere minutes later, two complete strangers tunnel into his room, arms adorned with clothing. He stares at them until Elizabeth forces him to sit back in a chair and let them go to work.

The older one, Mario, pours some sort of liquid in his hair and brushes it out with a hot iron. It’s sickly soft to the touch after, and he ties the upper part back into a braided bun. Alexander can admit that it is quite the look. The younger one, Marcus, fits him in a black tux with white converse.

They unveil his newly adorned look to Elizabeth - who is also dressed beautifully - and she coos and hums over him until he rolls his eyes and pushes her away from him.

“Thomas isn’t going to know what hit him.”

He smiles at her and shoos her out the door before Thomas can show up.

Alexander sits on his bed and calls John. It rings a couple of times before the line clicks and John’s voice is on the other end.

“Hey, babe.”

Alexander smiles at the familiar sound of his best friend’s voice. “Hey, John.”  
“How are you? How’s the prince? How’s the palace?”

“Everything’s okay. I do have some news though.”

John’s quiet for a second, “Do tell. You know my life’s dry without your drama.”

“Well I’ve been getting to know everyone better, and I went for a walk with Thomas this morning, and he confessed that he has none-platonic feelings for me.”

“Non-platonic? Jesus Christ, who is this guy? Who the fuck talks like that?”

“He’s a prince, John. What did you expect? ‘Aye baby, wanna fuck? I’ll even buy you ramen after?”

“Okay Sam did not offer to buy me ramen after, thank you very much, he offered to buy takeout. There’s a difference.”

Alex snorts. “Well not everyone can be as romantic as Sam was.”

Another pause. “What did you tell him?”

“The truth, John, I told him the truth. That I think I like him too.”

“But you’ve known him for a couple of weeks, man. And besides, he doesn’t even know who you really are. He thinks you’re this facade.”

He deflates at that a little. “Yeah, I know you’re right.”

“I’m not saying your feelings aren’t valid. You know I of all people am not going to give you shit for catching feelings too quick. Hell, I was ready to propose to you after the second time we fucked, and look how that turned out. Now you’re my best friend in the whole world, and I couldn’t imagine it any other way.”

“I know, I know.”

“But, I mean, just talk to him. Tell him who you are.”

Alexander nods, John’s words exactly what he was thinking. “Yeah, he invited me to a coronation ball tonight, so I thought I’d tell him after.”  
“Okay, let me know how it goes.” John says and then he hears a yell in the background, “Sorry, man I’ve got to hang up. Lafayette's trying to burn down my kitchen.”

“I’ll call you later. Bye John, I love you.”

“Love you too, sweet thing. Get laid for me, love.”

He hangs up with an eye roll, just as there’s a knock on the door.

He smooths his suit and answers it. Thomas stands on the other side, dressed to the nines in his official Royal uniform, and he sends a gleaming smile Alex’s way.

“Benjamin, you look astonishingly handsome.”

Alexander accepts his offered hand and curls his fingers around the prince’s arm.

“You look better than I do, Your Majesty.” Alex draws out the honorific and instead of looking displeased like before, Thomas’ smile widens.

“Shall we?”

“We shall.”

They walk up two flights of stairs, down another, and follow a winding hallway until they arrive outside the main hall. Thomas releases his arm and pulls him into a small alcove.

“Thomas, what’s wrong?”

“I think I’m going to come out. I think I’m going to tell them I’m abdicating because I’m gay and I don’t want to pick a wife because our laws are homophobic and everyone’s too afraid of change to do anything about it.”

“Is that what you want?”

Thomas nods. “More than anything, but most importantly, I want you beside me when I do it.” He looks sheepish, “I could use the moral support.”

Alexander smiles. “If you want me there, consider me there.”

He gets a small peck on the lips before Thomas is tugging them back out and through the doors of the main hall. There are camera lights all around and Alex is blinded by their flash. Thomas’ hand on his guides him carefully through the crowd, and they’re almost past the reporters when Alexander hears his name. Not Ben, not Benjamin Tallmadge, but his real name.

“Yo, Alexander!”

He freezes and Thomas turns to give him a questioning look.

A man materializes next to him, from behind the press ropes, and Alexander recognizes him from the piece they worked together before he left for the Washington Post.

“It’s Abraham. I used to be at the Times, but I transferred a couple years ago. Are you still at the Times? I hope you’ve at least made editor by now, god knows you’re the best journalist they’ve got.” He pauses for a second, takes in Thomas’ hand on Alexander’s, “What are you even doing here, Hamilton?”

He can feel Thomas grow tenser with every word that spills from Abraham’s mouth. He ignores the journalist, turning back to Thomas, and sees his set jaw - tight enough that Alex is worried it’s going to break.

Thomas turns to look at him, eyes narrowed, and says. “Is there something you’d like to tell me, Alexander.”

“I can explain.”

He doesn’t get the chance because Thomas is pulling him back out the doors, and shoves him into the alcove they were in not two minutes ago.

“What the hell?” Thomas hisses, and his words are ice cold. “Do you think I’m an idiot? Do you think you could play me like this?”

“It wasn’t like that, Thomas.”

“Don’t call me that.” He laughs without humor, “What was the plan? Pretend to return my affections until you could write up and article outing me to the entire world? Ruin my life before I could do it myself?”

“I do return your feelings, Thomas, please you have to believe me. None of this was supposed to happen, it just all got out of hand.”

“You let it get out of hand by pretending to be someone you weren’t. You lied to me, you played me like a fool.”

“Please Thomas.”

“Don’t call me that.”

He pushes Alexander from the alcove and snaps his fingers twice. “Security. Please remove Mr. Hamilton from the premise.”

Two beefy guards surround him immediately, a hand on each one of his hands, and Alexander can do nothing but struggle as he yells after Thomas.

“Please. Thomas, listen to me.”

He sees nothing but his back as the guards drag him away.

Alexander gets five minutes to pack his things, and then he is literally thrown out on his ass into the snow.

He’s grateful he was smart enough not to cancel his hotel room and gathers whatever dignity he has left and drags himself to the curb, where he manages to catch a cab.

Alex feels too numb to cry. Too numb to do anything other than mourn.

Before he can stop himself, he’s dialing Washington’s number and holding the phone up to his ear.

“Hello, my boy.”

“I’m so sorry.”

He can hear Washington’s confusion. “What’s wrong, Alexander? What could you possibly be apologizing for?”

“I, I failed you.” He says, “I found the story but got too caught up and ruined it all. Prince Thomas found out who I was and I just got kicked from the premise.”

“You don’t have to apologize, besides, the story just broke but it wasn’t the Times. It was the Washington Post.”

“What?” Alexander says sharply, “What story broke?”

“Well tonight was Thomas’ coronation, but news just broke that he’s gay and refuses to marry a wife to meet the requirements. His thrown goes to his cousin Charles Lewis.”

“Oh my god.”

“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, Alexander, but I’m not disappointed in you in the slightest. I knew this would be a hard case. If you don’t mind me asking, how exactly did you get too caught up?

“I fucking caught feelings for the main subject.”

He hears Washington’s deep breath, “That’ll do it.”

“I feel so stupid. I was just here to get the story, and now I’ve ruined everything. It all just felt so right at the moment.”

“Can I give you some advice, son?”

“Of course,” Alexander says, and he means it.

“I’ve been told that once you start following your heart, everything else will fall into place.”

He mulls the words over for a second, and they sound familiar.

“Follow your heart..” He says aloud to no one in particular, and then it all slides together.

“Oh my God.” Alexander breathes and then the words click and he can’t contain his excitement. “Oh my God! Wash, you’re a genius. I have to go.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what the hell?”

“I gotta go Wash. I think I know how Thomas can still be king.” He hangs up before his boss can utter another word and taps on the glass in the taxi, “Turn around, man, I’ve got to get back to the palace.”

Alexander wraps his coat further around his body and tosses a couple of ten dollar Monticello bills in the direction of the cab driver, and rushes from the car. He stumbles in the stone, racing towards the back door of the castle, and prays news of his dismissal hasn’t reached all the guards yet.

Benny, the guard on back shift, gives him a big smile and a wave as he approaches and Alex breathes a sigh of relief.

“Hey, Ben.” He says and Benny grins in response.

“I could say the same to you, Ben.”

He lets Alexander slip past him and he rushes down the corridor. He’s rounding the corner closest to Elizabeth’s room when he realizes he’s been spotted. Luddington’s eyebrow arches, the pull of her frown distaste, and crosses her hands over her chest, her and the guard next to her effectively blocking his path.

“I thought we had your slimy excuse of a man escorted off the premise already.”

He winces at that. “Harsh, but okay I deserved that. But listen, you have to let me past. I need to go to the piano room.”

“I have to do no such thing. You’re a disgrace to the Royal Family, and I ask you to leave willingly before I have security toss your ass out for a second time.”

“Luddington, please. Listen, I know I betrayed your trust, but I can fix things.”

She looks at him doubtfully.

“I think I know how Thomas can be King, but please, I have to look.”

Her frown deepens, and she looks behind her, before motioning to the guard to let him pass. “You have five minutes.”

Alexander breathes a sigh of relief and turns left at the archway, slipping into the piano room with Luddington on his heels.

He approaches the Christmas tree there, decorated with lights, and reaches out to caress the heart ornament King Peter had made before his death. He pulls it from the tree and raises it above his head.

“God, I hope I’m right.”

Luddington’s eyes widen and she reaches out for him, but Alexander is too fast. He hurls it towards the floor and squeezes his eyes shut as glass flies everywhere. He peeks one eye open and sees Luddington’s eye twitch.

“What. In. The-”

“Look.” He says, pointing to a folded up piece of paper in the midst of the glass. Alexander reaches down and picks it up, brushing off the glass and uncurling it.

He skims the letter quickly before handing it to Luddington. She reads it too and her mouth falls open.

“Have they coronated Charles Lewis yet?” He asks.

She shakes her head, “No but it’ll be any minute.”

He snatches the paper from her hand and runs in the direction of the main room.

Alexander bursts through the doors just as the Prime Minister is lowering the crown onto Charles Lewis’ head. “Stop!” Alex yells, and it’s so dramatic that he wants to throw up. A hundred pairs of eyes turn on him, and he feels like he just interrupted someone’s wedding.

“Stop the coronation.” He says again, breathless, “I have proof that Prince Thomas of Virginia is the rightful heir to the Monticello crown, with or without a queen consort.

The Prime Minister looks up at him, confusion evident in the twist of his brow, as he asks, “On what grounds?”

Alexander holds the paper from the ornament up as he walks further. People part around him, like Moses, until he is just in front of the stage. “A Royal Decree made by King Peter of Monticello before his death. He had hidden it in an ornament as a surprise to his son, Thomas,” He looks at the Prince - who’s pointedly ignoring eye contact, “But he passed before he could give it to him.”

Alexander steps closer until Thomas’ eyes fall on him, and he hands the paper over.

Thomas skims through it and then passes the paper to Prime Minister Madison. He turns to the crowd. “By legal decree of the late King Peter, Monticello’s male monarchy no longer must have a female consort by their side to claim reign of the throne. Charles, I’m afraid the crown belongs to King Thomas.”

Charles Lewis dips his head back and says, quite loud, “Thank God.”

He stands up, shoots Alex a smile, and allows Thomas to take his place. Alexander turns away, knowing he’s not welcome and heads for the door.

He turns back at the last moment, to watch Madison place the crown on Thomas’s head.

Alex pushes the door open and walks through.  
/  
He gets back to New York on the 23rd. After dropping off his bags, his next stop is John’s apartment. He knocks on the door, anxious since it’s been almost a month since he’s seen his friend, but excited to see him.

John pulls the door open, blinks lazily at Alexander before it seems to dawn on him and a wide smile spreads across his face. “Welcome back babe.” He says, before reaching out and tugging Alexander into a hug. John’s body is lanky and warm against his own, and he smells like cigarettes and coffee, and Alexander has never felt more at ease. He burrows his face in the side of John’s neck, feels his familiar curls against his fingertips and sighs.

“I’m taking it things didn’t go well with the Prince?”

Alexander shakes his head no, still tucked into the crook of his best friend’s neck, and John holds him. There are no pretenses, no worries, just comfort.

Eventually, Alexander pulls away and gives his friend a smile. “I fucking missed you.”

“I fucking missed you more.”  
John tugs him into another quick hug, leaves a kiss on the top of his hair, and pulls away.

“I’ve got to work tomorrow, but I’m thinking we can go out Saturday night? Renew our Christmas tradition of getting plastered the Eve of?”

“Nothing sounds better, John. Nothing.”

He finishes the article that night, tucked into his too-small bed, in his too small apartment. He doesn’t even know if Washington’s going to want it, since the Post has already broke the story, but Alex figures he gives a unique take to the story. He edits out the kisses and the romance but leaves the gut of the story. Leaves the parts that make Thomas himself. The parts that make him the hero that deserved to win.

He prints out the paper and decides to hand it into Washington that next day. He doesn’t know if he’ll like it, or us it, or if he’ll fire Alex on the spot, but he wrote it and that is enough.

He falls asleep and dreams, wistfully, of snow-covered hills and peppermint kisses.

When Alexander gets called into Washington’s office that next morning, he’s equal parts surprised and relieved by the smile that greets him. Washington never smiles. He saves that occasion for things like funerals or whatever.

“It’s good to see you, son,” Washington says as Alex sits down in the chair across from him. “The paper missed you while you were away. The executives were curious why Adams papers had suddenly become so horrific, and I was pleased to mention your assignment in Monticello.”

Alexander offers him a smile, and slides the article across the desk.

He watches his clock and times how long it takes Washington to finish it. 4 minutes and 23 seconds, his new record.

“It’s good.” Washington says, and something inside him melts. He’s been gunning for Washington’s approval the moment he showed up in this office six years ago, and to hear he did good, on his first real project, is such a relief.

“Thank you, sir.”

“I want to be frank with you, Alexander.” He starts, “There are people here that do not think you are qualified. They believe you’re too stubborn, too opinionated, too emotional drawn to get a good story- to write a good story.”

“Sir?”

“I however, disagree with that. You have faults, no doubt, but I truly believe they make you a better writer and a better journalist. As you know, evaluations are due at the end of the year, and while I cannot promise you a promotion, I can tell you know that you are my top pick for the newly opened editorial slot.”

His mouth is dry with excitement and nerves. “Thank you, sir. That means so much to me. I promise you won’t regret this.”

Washington regards him carefully, considering, before he nods. “Very well, get back to work.”

He all but skips from Washington’s office, and John high fives him at his desk.

That Saturday, Alexander convinces Lafayette and John to go to a new bar on the South side called Patriot. It’s a bit of a whole in the wall place, but the booze is cheap and the music is good, so none of them can complain.

Alexander knocks back a shot in celebration of Washington’s words, and watches as Lafayette finishes the last one after him.

“Hold up, y’all, we need more shots. I’ll be back.”

He excuses himself from the table and walks to the bar. Alex waves at the bartender, shooting her a coy smile, and ordering six more shots of tequila. It’s not his favorite liquor, but it gets him drunk fast and goes down easy. (Comes up even easier.)

She arranges them on a tray for him, along with salt and lime wedges, and he carefully balances them as he walks back to the table. Alexander is approaching when he sees a tall man, baseball cap adorning his head, standing next to it. John looks shocked, eyebrows wide as he converses with the stranger and Lafayette seems more amused than anything.

“I’ve got shots!” Alexander says as an introduction as he sits the tray down on the table. He turns to the stranger, whose face is still mostly covered by the darkness of the bar, and holds out a hand.  
“Alexander Hamilton, nice to meet you.”

The man looks up, face freeing from the shadows, and Alex’s heart stops.

“I’m glad we finally got a proper introduction.” Thomas says, “I’m King Thomas of Monticello. It’s a pleasure to finally meet your proper acquaintance.” He shakes Alex’s hand and it is warm to the touch.

He doesn’t know what to say, he’s kind of drunk, and just stares at the arch of Thomas’ cupid’s bow.

“Thomas here was telling us about how he just got into the city, and how he was looking for a certain journalist.” Lafayette says, his accent thicker with drink, as he nudges Alex in the side. He drops Thomas’ hand and gives him a shy smile.

“Hi, sorry.”

Thomas’ cheeks are flushed from the cold and Alex’s heart races.

“Alex, can we talk somewhere private? Outside maybe?”

“Of course, yeah. I mean, uh, lead the way.”

He follows Thomas outside into the freshly fallen snow, and it reminds him of Monticello. The way it crunches under his feet and he sinks into it.

“You came a long way.” Alex says.

“Yeah, well there were some things I think we need to talk about.”

“You’re definitely right there. To start, I am so sorry. I had gotten in too deep over my head and everything kind of fell apart just when I realized how much I liked you.”

“What you did was horrible and a complete breach of privacy, and it’ll take me some time to trust you again, but I forgive you. You had no malicious intent, as far as Elizabeth was concerned - and yes she told me everything, and you helped me be king, so I’m eternally grateful.” Thomas says, “When you left, I realized for the first time how much joy and happiness you brought to the castle. How much joy and happiness you brought me. I know this is crazy and an impossible situation, but my feelings for you still stand. And I’ll have you, anyway I can get it, if you’ll take me.”

He looks up into Thomas’ genuine eyes, and feels relieved that Thomas is telling this to him.

Not to pretend Benjamin Tallmadge, who is good at biology and scatter plots and enjoys horse rides for fun.

But he is saying it to Alexander Hamilton,a journalist for the New York Times.

“I’ll take you, without a doubt.”

Thomas leans forward and pulls Alex into a soft kiss. It’s warm and sweet, and Alex presses further into it. The snow falls down around them, covering Thomas’ hair like a halo. Alexander pulls away to look up at his king, bright eyed and beautiful as ever.

“I think I love you.” Thomas says and Alexander can only smile.

“I think I love you too, your Majesty.”

**Author's Note:**

> see me on Tumblr: lasciviouspeach


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